


When Gods Make War (Men Take Cover)

by peachchild



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachchild/pseuds/peachchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he is perfectly honest with himself, and Loki is only ever really truly honest with <i>himself</i>, he couldn’t have predicted how perfectly it would all go. He only meant to start a little quarrel, not an entire war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gods are proud creatures. They respond well to flattery, and with destruction to those who insult them. They are arrogant, and careless, and despicable.

It wasn’t Loki’s idea to bring them all together. That honor belongs to Aite, who walks invisible on mortal heads and brings chaos wherever she goes. Loki admires her for it.

They met first in 1910. Loki was surprised they’d never come across each other before, but the gods tend to keep to their own realms, and Loki has had very few reasons to visit Greece.

The United States has little sense of jurisdiction when it comes to the gods, since the ancient Native American deities tend to keep to themselves, uninterested in the vanities of other pantheons. And since so many subjects of that country are immigrants, with their ancestors’ pasts rooted in religions long gone quiet, one can see many deities wandering the streets, if one knows where to look.

Loki knew where to look.

In fact, his first meeting with Aite came because great minds do indeed think alike.

The woman’s name was Mary Mallon, and she worked as a cook in New York. She had typhoid fever, though she showed no symptoms, and almost all of the members of the family for whom she worked had fallen sick with it. She had no idea that she was the one causing their illness, but she was worried for fear that she’d contract it as well.

Loki’s intentions were to give her a little stroke in the back of her mind to flee from the family and go on to work for someone else, to spread and spread the fever without meaning to. Aite beat him to it.

He caught her in the streets, breathing against Mary’s ear in the market, not even words, just a soft breeze. Aite was a fair woman then, her hair upswept, her eyes dark, wearing the muted colors and full skirts that were fashionable for the time.

Loki recognized her immediately, by the soft glow around her, not of light but of evanescence, a sense that a stiff breath would blow her away, because she did not exist in the first place.

He clipped across the street, aiding himself with a walking stick, and paused beside her once Mary had stepped away. “You spoiled my fun a bit, I’m afraid.”

Aite smiled at him, her lips pressed tightly together in amusement. “Ah, well, disease is everybody’s sweet temptation, it seems. I earlier glimpsed a sign of that insufferable Dwyn as well. I’m sure there will be future opportunity in this country to cause mischief, my dear.”

Loki offered her his arm, and she slipped a gloved hand through his elbow. “Why have we not met before?” he asked wondrously as they began to walk. “Surely Greece is not so far from the Scandinavian lands, nor Olympus so far from Asgard.”

“Ah, our fathers are not exactly friends, I’m afraid,” she tutted, shaking her head. Her heels clicked on the pavement. “Your king once asked my father to go to war with him, against those insufferable Frost Giants, especially when they began to proceed south. Zeus was not interested in aiding him, though my half-sister Athena and my uncle Ares both encouraged him to. That was never quite forgiven, I fear.”

“I am not surprised. Odin is a proud warrior. Asking for aid was no doubt a difficult thing for him to do.”

“It turns out he did not need it anyway! He defeated the Frost Giants with his own power.” Aite patted his arm lightly and nodded toward Mary, who was buying meat in the marketplace. “She will be moving on soon, to another family. I’ve set the idea alight in her mind.”

“Good. Then we should leave your mischief to unfold.” He stepped away, took her hand and swooped to kiss her knuckles. “Until we meet again.”

“Certainly.” She dropped a curtsy and was gone.

Typhoid Mary went on to infect fifty-three people.

***

A century passed before they met again, and Aite visited Loki in his rooms, stretching onto his chaise as if she had been there all the time. In her natural state, she was dark, but still beautiful, draped in the robes of the ancient Greeks.

“A little old-fashioned, don’t you think?” Loki asked about them, nodding.

She toyed with the hem, pulling it straight and letting it fall to settle in place against her hip. “It reminds me of our former glory, when the Greeks weren’t so caught up with that _insufferable_ Christ.”

Loki snorted, settling in his chair near the window. It overlooked the waters of Asgard, stretching out toward the Bifrost. He liked to be able to see Thor riding in from his trips to Midgard. He didn’t go there nearly as often as he used to, since most mortals no longer worshipped him as a god, but he was fond of the place. Loki could never quite discern why.

“What brings you here, Aite? Surely, you’re far from home.”

“I’ve grown bored, Loki. Olympus stagnates. Mother and Father quarrel constantly, and Greece will perish if it suffers anymore of his tantrums. The storms they draw down are too much.”

Loki quirked a smile at that. “Ah, I’ve quite a bit of experience with that sort of temper. How can I help you?”

“I hoped that you could help me arrange a little… celebration.” She grinned at him, and threw her legs over the edge of the chaise, resting her bare feet on the marble floor. She leaned her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. “Something to brighten their moods. Well, to be perfectly honest, more something to brighten mine.”

“Sounds promising.” Loki stood to pour out wine and brought a goblet to her. “And what should we celebrate?”

When she looked up, her eyes were dark. “The beginning of a new war.”

***

Most mortals would be surprised to learn how many wars they saw as good or were just really just the products of ego. Someone wounds someone else’s pride and demands recompense. Someone takes too much pride in himself and demands more land, jewels, women, gold, than everyone else. Someone thinks his god is greater than every other god. Someone thinks his race should be the master of all races.

When you think of it like that, war is incredibly easy to start.

It began with Loki, because he has sway over Thor.

Thor lay naked in his bed, the linens pooled about his waist. Loki was curled against his side, studying his profile, lazily tapping his fingers against Thor’s chest, unable to tell by Thor’s deep breaths if he were lightly sleeping or deeply relaxed. He didn’t speak, in case it was the former. No sense in waking him, especially since that usually instigates a wrestling match, and Loki almost always loses. (The rest of the time, he cheats.)

“Your thoughts are quite loud, my love,” Thor’s voice was gruff. “I don’t think I’ll rest at all with you beside me.”

“Shall I leave the bed then?” Loki asked lightly, pushing himself up on his elbow. “I suppose there are other matters I could see to…”

“Oh, shut up.” Thor laughed. He cracked an eye open to peer up at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Did you know that Zeus, of Olympus, was thinking of inviting your family to dine in his palace?”

“Your family too, Loki,” Thor grumbled absently, giving a chastising tug to a strand of his hair. “How do you know this?”

“Aite told me. Don’t scowl! She doesn’t lie to me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I would know.” Loki wiggled over to rest his head in the center of Thor’s chest, his hand framing his ribs. He liked to listen to his heart beating. It struck like thunder, like everything else about Thor.

“Father won’t accept the invitation.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“He will find it frivolous.”

“He feasts regularly!” Loki protested. “And this would be an opportunity for diplomacy. There are plenty of opportunities for Earth to need defending. Wouldn’t it be wise that he has Olympus at his disposal, should he need them?”

“Perhaps,” Thor conceded thoughtfully, his fingers threaded through Loki’s hair. It was enough to leave Loki loose-limbed and relaxed, happy to be still for once. “Earth has had little need for protection recently, thanks to you.”

The words were thoughtless at best, cruel at worst. They both knew well enough that Loki regretted what happened after his voluntary exile from Asgard and his attack on Earth. It took years to reconcile the hurts between them, years before Loki was allowed even to speak again.

Loki did not answer.

Thor touched his face, turned it up toward him. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “That was unkind. You have done much to show penance for what happened, and I should not treat it like a wrong you have only recently committed. I have forgiven you. I should not make it seem otherwise.”

Loki’s mouth twitched into a smile. He squirmed over onto his back, tucking himself against Thor’s side and staring up at the ceiling. “The Avengers struggle with numbers, at times,” he pointed out slowly. “Strength is no obstacle, but if an army is too vast…”

“What are you saying?”

“Perhaps another ally as strong as Asgard will benefit Midgard.”

“Do you truly think Olympus as strong as Asgard?”

“I have seen Zeus wield thunder as powerful as yours.”

“Have you?” Thor inquired, clearly amused. “And when did you see this?”

“When he cast me from Olympus, after I stole the sandals of Hermes and flew there.”

His bark of laughter startled Loki, then filled him up with the gratified warmth of a joke well played. “And he cast you out on a bolt of lightning, did he?”

“Yes. Just as you did when I replaced all of your clothes with Sif’s gowns. I certainly frightened Steve Rogers, when I fell through his ceiling.”

“I assure you my aim was completely incidental.”

“Liar. You wanted him to hit me.” Loki rubbed his jaw, wincing at the memory. “If you hadn’t come to retrieve me, he would have returned me to SHIELD as a prisoner.”

“Perhaps I did go a bit overboard on my punishment.”

“A bit.” He stretched languidly, warm sunlight falling through the window across his bare ribs. “I forgive you.”

“I know.” Thor rolled over, finally awake enough to catch Loki’s mouth in a kiss.

Loki lifted his head, curling his hand into Thor’s hair, and nipped playfully at his mouth, enough to make Thor chuckle.

Between them, they didn’t speak about the feast on Mount Olympus again. But when the invitation came, Thor convinced Odin of its value with wise and well-formed words.

So they went.

***

Thor loves Loki more than anyone in the world.

He didn’t always show it, not the way he should have. When they were young, he should have stood up for him more. He should have insisted that their father - _his_ father – be more attentive to him. He should have told him that he was never good enough; that he was always so much greater than _good enough_.

Thor knows that it was his own pride that kept them so distant. He was Odinson. He was the favored. Why would he give that up for anything? It was selfish and vain, and he knows it now. He only wished he realized it sooner, before so many people died and Loki suffered so much.

Odin took his power when they returned to Asgard, after Loki unleashed the Chitauri on New York City. Thor understood why, but he also felt an ache, a pull, toward Loki, who sat trapped in his rooms, unable to speak, helpless. Thor knew what that felt like; Odin had done the same to him after all.

He visited Loki regularly, sat across a table from him, watched those blue eyes, bright with betrayal, watch him over the seal across his mouth.

Loki couldn’t speak, but Thor did, often. He told him stories. He didn’t speak about their father. He talked of Jane Foster, and after Loki’s eyes turned hot and away, he did not mention her again.

Thor finally received permission to take away his gag, and so he did, carefully, aware of the tense, tight line of Loki’s shoulders, the proximity of his hands to Loki’s throat. When he was free, Loki didn’t speak. He only touched his fingertips to his chapped lips and looked weary.

Thor sat down beside him, peering into his face. “Are you alright? What do you need?”

“Nothing from you.” The words were hoarse, spoken on a cracked voice. “Why are you here? What could you possibly – what possible reason could you have?”

Thor poured him a goblet of water and set it down firmly in front of him. Loki glared at him, but drank. When he replaced the empty cup on the table, Thor poured out more water for him. “I’ve never forsaken you, Loki, even when you did. I have always loved you, even at your worst, just as you loved me when I didn’t deserve it.”

Loki scoffed. “How do you know I loved you?”

Thor ignored him. “I only wanted to bring you home,” he said quietly. “I wanted another chance.”

Loki’s eyes went stony, his head tilted away like he expected Thor to hit him. “Another chance for what?”

“To show you that you are important.”

“I know I’m important.”

“Loki,” Thor snorted, chastising, even as the edges of his face brightened with a smile. Loki looked almost pleased. “I meant that you are important to _me_.”

“You seem to think I hold your opinion in very high esteem,” Loki mused. He shrugged, his hands spread, mouth turned down, the very picture of bafflement. “Why would you think that? I have nothing left here.”

“Do you really think that’s true? _I’m_ here, Loki. You have me. You’ve always had me.”

“Always?” Loki feigned surprised. “I’ve _always_ had you? Please define _always_.”

Thor knew he deserved that. “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked quietly. “I can get you something.”

Loki looked away. “No. Please leave.”

Thor did, but as always, he returned the next day.

***

Tony Stark was not unused to war. It was, as Nick Fury so kindly pointed out, how he made his fortune, after all.

But war between men seemed to be very different than war between gods. If his fight with Thor was anything to go by, he would go so far as to say they were tragically outmatched. There was nothing they could do that would be any help, against them.

The gods, of course, weren’t the problem now. The Avengers had a whole different problem to focus on at this point. With the people rioting in the streets, there was so much chaos and death happening, and there was nothing they could do about it without harming civilians.

When he said as much to Steve, he got that hard-jawed, straight-shouldered look he did whenever he was going to say something he didn’t want to. “They’re not civilians anymore. They’re soldiers. Well, they’d probably call themselves ‘warriors.’” He turned to Tony, his eyes the same devastatingly blue and slightly sad they always were. “They’re fighting for a cause, for their gods.”

“They aren’t their gods.” Tony waved a hand to stow the hologram monitors of his computer, leaning back in his chair with a sharp exhale. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They’re panicking. The gods are at war and the people of earth have no idea what to do about it. Until a few hours ago, most of them probably thought they were myths!”

Steve leaned his hip against the edge of Tony’s desk. “Even so, they’re taking sides. They’re ready to fight. They’re afraid enough of the gods to be scared not to root for the winning team. How do we stop it?”

Tony looked up at him, tapping a pen absently into the palm of his hand. “We’ll just have to be the winning team.”

Steve sighed heavily. “Or make them afraid of us,” he said quietly.

Tony was silent for a moment. “Or that.”

***

Loki really only meant to start a quarrel, not an entire war. Yes, Aite had expressed her intentions when they first spoke about it, to set both of their pantheons at each other like angry cats, but he always assumed that he could direct it in such a way that it would fizzle out the moment they left each other’s company.

He depended too much on his own kin, he found.

He’s interacted with Olympians before. He has often visited with Aite in her father’s kingdom. But the meetings he’s had have been few and isolated, in comparison to the great gods and goddesses that now sat perched in thrones at a table that seemed miles long. They were easily a match in size and grandeur for the Asgardians. The hall shone ivory, trimmed in gold, and stood in open air allowed by great columns, much in the style of the ancient Greek temples.

Loki did not care for it. The warrior in him felt exposed and unprotected, left to the elements. By the tense line of Thor’s shoulders, he shared his view on the situation. They were not able to sit together. As Odin’s only son, Thor was duty-bound to sit with his mother and father at the center of the table, opposite Zeus and Hera and their eldest children. Loki was allocated toward the end of the table, and from his position, he could not see nor hear Thor over the clatter of dishes and goblets, the raucous laughter of gods at play.

Aite bit grapes in half and sucked on them, eyebrows lifted in Loki’s direction like she was reading words printed across his eyelids. “They do not let you sit with your lover,” she commented, tutting softly and shaking her head. “How very unkind of them. And once Odin saw you as his son as well.”

“Do not play your games with me, my lady,” Loki said sharply, looking askance at her. “I am your match in those.”

“True.” Aite looked radiant in a robe the color of olive pits, her dark hair pinned back. Her features were altered slightly, cheekbones sharper than normal, chin longer. She almost looked like Sif. Loki imagined that was on purpose, meant to put him at ease. She ran her second finger around the rim of her goblet, sighing heavily. “They’ve banished me, you see. I am not allowed to claim a position as Zeus’s daughter at such an important feast. It was very diplomatic of my father, to assume I would cause mischief.”

“That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed. I expected he might cut off my attempts before I could make them. That’s why I enlisted your aid.” She leaned on her hand, smiling brightly at him. “You can make the mess that I cannot.”

“Can I? Last I looked, I have the same rank as you do.”

“Indeed. Perhaps once we’ve eaten, you can mingle with your lover.”

“Stop calling him that.”

“Isn’t that what he is?” She feigned surprise. “Is it a secret between you? Do I alone know?”

“Of course not. Thor told his father many moons ago.”

“Well, then, of course he would see you separated. He cannot have his son mingling so publically with someone who has caused so much… chaos.” The word breathed out of her mouth like a living thing, a butterfly fluttering toward the light. “You must seem positively _dangerous_.”

Loki knew well enough that he was being baited. He was certainly not the only one born with a silver tongue. Still, the words grated at his bones, because there was truth in them. The best lies always had at least a little. Odin would attempt to separate them, to press Thor into a better match, or to at least keep him from the wrong one.

Aite said no more, knowing her work was done. Loki sat smarting at the discord she had successfully lit in his mind, a dismay mixed with admiration that she had manipulated him even as he knew she meant to.

The moon rose, and the party began to break up, moving from the table toward an even greater hall, Asgardian in design, with arching ceilings and windows that flashed and shone like armor, for dance and song and games. There was more drink to be had, and Odin’s face was flushed already, his nose ruddy. Thor was grinning the grin of a content man, and he only smiled more widely when Loki made his way to him.

“You look stunning tonight,” Thor murmured against his ear, his hand heavy against the small of his back. “You must always wear green. I command it as your future king.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but leaned into him anyway. It was true that he wore green well, and he knew that. It offset his fair skin and blue eyes, and his coat of leather and silk sat well on the sharp edges of his figure. “You can’t command me to do anything, and you know it. I’ll always defy you.”

“True, and I wouldn’t love you if you didn’t.” He dodged in for a kiss, and Loki turned his head away so that he caught the cut of his jaw. “What is it, Loki?”

“Your father has made it very clear he does not want us seen this way.” He peered into Thor’s eyes, standing near enough that their noses almost touched. “Would you defy him?”

Thor was silent for a moment, and he knocked back the last of his mead. “Sometimes, I think I would,” he said darkly, but nevertheless released Loki, smoothing a hand down his spine before taking a step away. “You surprised me by coming tonight.”

“It was my idea, if you recall.”

“Yes, I suppose it was. And a fine idea. The Olympians are more than gracious hosts. Odin and Zeus have even spoken in passing of a possible treaty between our peoples, to come to the aid of Midgard together, should they need us.”

“Oh?” Loki feigned disinterest, his arms folded, eyes wandering over the crowd. Hermes was fluttering around on those ridiculous winged sandals of his. Loki would have to steal them again soon. “So they’ve taken my suggestion to heart.”

“Well, yes. Though they do not know it was your suggestion.”

He jerked his head in his Thor’s direction, peering at him. “You did not tell Odin that I facilitated the feast?”

“If I had, he would never have agreed.”

Loki was silent for a long moment. “I see.”

“Loki,” Thor sighed. “It is not because he loves you less.”

“He always has. It matters not. I am going to ask Aite to dance with me.” He propelled himself away from Thor on heavy feet, and when he reached the youthful goddess, touched her on the arm. “I would like to see it done.”

She smiled at him, eyebrow hitched. “Then we shall.”

In the end, it only took a few well-placed whispers.

“ _Zeus would defeat Odin in battle._ ”

“ _Nay, Odin would slaughter Zeus._ ”

“ _Olympus would fall if the Asgardian warriors wished it so._ ”

“ _Zeus could strike down Asgard with a mere toss of his hand!_ ”

Loki couldn’t be sure when the first sword was drawn, when Zeus took hold of the first thunderbolt, when Thor felt it necessary to call his hammer to his hand. He stood by and watched while the tension grew, molding itself into an ugly, bulbous thing, settling heavily amongst them. Between Thor and Zeus, the air crackled with electricity, and a low rumble could be heard in the distance, the first warning of thunder.

The silence was heavy. Odin looked weary. “I do not wish to fight with you.”

“Because you think us more powerful? A wise decision,” Zeus sneered. “Run home to Asgard.”

The All-Father pursed his lips. “I will defend the honor of my people to my death.”

“You may have to.”

There was a long pause. Loki felt weighed down by it. Odin shifted his staff, settled it against the ground. The crack that sounded had a certain air of finality. “To war then.”

***

Bruce has this way of pinching the bridge of his nose when he’s especially dismayed by something. Tony noticed it in particular when Thor appeared at Stark Tower with this truly terribly news.

“So what you’re telling us,” the physicist began, slowly, like if he didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be true, “is that our planet is going to be the battleground for a war between _gods_? People as poweful as you and Loki?”

Tony leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen between his forefinger and thumb. “You realize Fury’s going to have a whole litter of kittens at this news?”

“The last thing we need is him deciding to renew plans for nuclear weapons in response.” Steve pressed his hands to the tabletop. He pressed his lips together, let them dip down thoughtfully. “Maybe it would be best to keep it to ourselves for now.”

“You will not be able to hide this knowledge for long,” Thor warned. “It will be apparent that something is happening very soon. Asgard will try to keep the fighting to remote areas, when we have the opportunity to make such choices, but I cannot speak for Olympus.”

“But why _here_?” Steve shook his head. “Why aren’t you fighting between your… kingdoms?”

“This is not a war about power. One of us is not trying to conquer the other. My father, and Zeus, feel that there is no sense in destroying our homes in a fight that has more to do with pride than anything.”

“Great, so they’re going to tear our home apart instead.” Steve pushed off the table, paced across the room, the muscles in his back flexing tensely.

Tony eyed Thor. “You don’t seem to approve of the war.”

“I do not.” Thor winced. “It is unseemly to fight over something so petty. Such a human thing.”

No one contested the words, though they all may have taken offense to them if they chose to.

“Is Loki involved in this in some way?” Steve asked suddenly, turning toward them. “Did he provoke this?”

“Loki may have stoked the fire,” Thor admitted. “But he cares not about this manner of senseless battle. He has a strong contempt for this sort of pride.”

“Isn’t this a man who tried to take over the world in some attempt to save his pride?” Bruce asked, bewildered.

“He’s a different sort of man now,” Thor said quietly, his tone dangerous. “He did not mean to hasten anyone to war. Aite, however, may have.”

“Aite?”

“Yes. She is of the house of Zeus. She cares not for either of our kingdoms, and casts chaos about her in an attempt to cause discord within them.”

“Well, she sounds like the belle of the ball,” Tony quipped. “Maybe she’s our target.”

“I do not understand.”

“Mischief-makers usually beget mischief.” Bruce picked up on the thread of Tony’s thought. “If she intended to start a war, she succeeded. If she wants the war to continue at full throttle, she’s going to have to continue misbehaving.”

“She’ll certainly be in this world,” Thor rubbed his thumb against his lip. “Humans are far more susceptible to suggestion than Asgardians or Olympians.”

“I wouldn’t put humans down so far right now, Thor.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “She managed to bruise a few egos and start a war over it – no humans involved.”

Bruce headed off the quarrel before it happened. “Olympus probably coincides with Greek, geographically, just as Asgard coincides with Norway, and the Scandinavian countries, right?” There was general consensus on the thought. “It’s safe to assume that we’re looking at a war across Europe. Maybe it would be a good idea to set up base in central Europe, so we can begin damage control as soon as the damage happens.”

“In that case, our best bet is to contact SHIELD.” Steve looked between them. “They’ll be best for transport and military aid for recovery operations.”

“We’re still going to be hopelessly outmatched,” Tony pointed out. “We’ll never be able to fight against the gods.”

“But I will,” Thor’s mouth twitched into a smile. “And Loki is a more than capable warrior, and a clever man to boot. I will gather a small band for resistance, those who oppose the war, and we will focus our energies on directing battle out of the cities and causing as little destruction as possible.”

“Then we have a skeleton of a plan.” Tony hopped to his feet, moved around the table to draw up his computers. “I’ll make sure our soldiers are armed.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll contact Nat and Clint and see who else SHIELD can wrangle for us.”

“I’ll try not to get angry,” Bruce joked.

Thor cracked a smile. “I will see you soon, my friends.” And then he was gone.

***

Thor’s mood hung dark and cloudy over the room, and Loki tried to stay away from the low rumbles of thunder he was beginning to hear, the sharp crackles of lightning that followed. He had been this way all the way home from Olympus, despite Loki’s every attempt to make light of the situation.

Now he lay sprawled on a chaise near Thor’s window, watching the storm roll in. In a kingdom so accustomed to sun as Asgard, the rain came heavy and swift, enough to send even the hardiest souls running for their homes. Loki wondered how aware they were of Thor’s moods, if they knew the rains and electricity came according to his whims.

“The All-Father is more prideful than I might have imagined,” Loki said into the liquid silence, his voice swimming through it to reach Thor. “I never imagined he would be coerced into war over something so miniscule as _pride_.”

“Of course you did,” Thor spat back, his first words in hours. “It was your plot all along, was it not? To set our kingdoms against each other? To cause chaos? That is what you do best, is it not, Loki?”

He blinked slowly at Thor, refusing to express his surprise at the words. He leaned back in his seat, leveling a steady gaze on him. “I had no intention of causing a war.”

“I am not so certain that I believe you.” Thor paced the room, footfalls heavy. “And why should I? You are a trickster. It is your duty to lie.”

“Not my duty, my _pleasure_ ,” Loki corrected patiently, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “But I do not lie to you. You know that. I did not intend to cause this war.”

Thor paused to look at him. His eyes shone especially blue when he had cause for anger. “How can I believe you after what I’ve seen?”

“I don’t know. You could trust me. I do not claim to speak for Aite. Her contempt for her father and his family far surpasses mine.” He pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders back. “I care not for war any longer. It was a whim and fancy of an angry man that no longer exists. I would not bring war upon my people, even when they would happily see me die.”

Thor deflated at that. Outside, the sky grumbled unhappily. “I have always looked to Father for guidance,” he said quietly. “I have always looked to him to be wise when I could not. What do I do, Loki, when his wisdom has failed, and he shows himself to be as flawed as any of us?”

“I am not the best person to look to for wisdom,” Loki admitted, moving toward him, treading carefully. He touched his face with light fingertips. “But you should look to yourself for that. It’s always existed in you.”

Thor studied his face, and Loki knew that he still did not quite believe that he didn’t intend the outcome they had. He gripped his wrist, squeezing almost too hard. “Will you help me end this?”

Loki looked at the floor between them for a moment, then met Thor’s eyes again. He would never be the warrior that Thor was, but he certainly had a skill set unlike any others. “I will give you my best.”

***

Aite was furious. That was probably an understatement, because Aite wanted to tear the world apart.

She had been cast from Mount Olympus – again – and she was currently in the process of roaming the earth, sowing disaster and dismay wherever she lighted. No one could stop her. No one dared. Three months into the war, and even the mortals on Earth knew a god when they saw one.

Two sects of mortals had clashed in Britain, rising up in the names of their gods. While the Celtic pantheon was not at all involved in the war, and had openly denounced their neighbors to the north and south, the mortals that worshipped them, or whose ancestors had worshipped them, were stepping up to declare their allegiance, or to just defy the gods whose war was wreaking havoc on the western world.

It was with glee that Aite realized if the war continued at its current speed and savagery, the whole world would soon be involved. Perhaps, if she was very lucky, the other pantheons would descend from their perches in the heavens to aid those who showed their devotion.

But she was not pleased right now, because she was in Cardiff, where battle was heaviest. She had planned to sow some minor discord between the warriors of that army which fought in order to preserve the rights to religious freedom and peace between the gods, in order to diminish their opportunities to end the violence.

What she found instead was that the weapons of both armies involved had been utterly destroyed, made useless and inconsequential by missing pieces and lacking ammunition. The soldiers were dismayed, and confused, unaware of the equal uselessness of their enemies. A hostile, hesitant peace had been declared there, for the time being, seeing as weaponry was difficult to come by when nations and kingdoms were fighting amongst themselves as well as against their enemies.

It was obvious who was responsible.

She found Loki near the northern coast of Wales, in the easy, light dress of someone accustomed to cold weather. He was listening to a young soldier play the bagpipes on the pavement near the beach, the mournful tones falling flat against the high winds coming off the sea.

“That is a hateful sound,” Aite declared, glowering at the young man. “The Celts have always had the strangest sense of beauty.”

Loki hummed, non-committal. “I am rather fond of it,” he said quietly. “It is the cry made for all lost warriors and loved ones. No other instrument will ever come so close to expressing utter despair.”

“Hm. Despair is a pathetic emotion.” She climbed the rocks, up to where Loki perched high above the crashing waves of the water. “It is utterly human. Caring so deeply for someone only leaves you wretched.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed lightly, his tone even. He met her eyes, his own clear. “And caring for no one leaves you pathetic.”

Aite’s rage bubbled under her skin, and her hand closed around his throat, pinning him back. “Why have you sabotaged my every trick?” she demanded in a hiss, hovering over him. “Why won’t you let me have my war?”

Loki sucked in calm breaths around her tightening hand, his elbows holding him up away from the unforgiving pressure of stone at his back. He smiled wryly. “Being a trickster god has its different uses, wouldn’t you say?” he wheezed out. “If we all behaved as we expect each other to behave, no one would fall for our little jokes.”

Aite pushed him back with an annoyed growl, straightening. “You helped me begin this war.”

“Yes.” Loki rubbed his throat. “And I intend to help end it.”

“I do not wish it to end.”

“I do not end it for you.”

“Oh, I see.” She sneered. “You end it for _Thor_. You, his loyal dog, defending your master with all your gifts, though he would not wield his in your defense.”

Loki’s eyes go from liquid to ice. “You know nothing of Thor.”

“No, indeed. I see not why you care for him. I will make you both understand that you should not make an enemy of me.”

“I do not wish to be your enemy.” Loki sat forward, hooking his elbows over his knees. “But I also feel no desire to participate in war. It is tedious, and dull. Humans do not like tricks when their lives are at stake. I grow bored of laughing alone. Don’t you?”

Aite’s eyes swirled dark, like black smoke. “I shall laugh as loudly as I please when they have all fallen,” she swore. “And they will rue the day they cast me out.”

She stalked off, heels clipping sharp along the pavement. Across the beach, the young soldier’s song faltered and died away. The bagpipes lay broken at his feet.

***

Chaos hit the States more quickly than anyone might have anticipated. More than half of the country claims to have no faith at all and yet, a twenty-first century Crusades broke out throughout the major cities less than five months into this divine war. It started in Chicago, and spread outward to the west and then to the east, and Tony, Steve and Bruce agreed it was best that they return to the U.S. to attempt to recover the peace there before the military decided to get involved.

That left Clint and Natasha leading SHIELD in an attempt to keep fighting at bay across Europe. Thor appeared occasionally, but they were moving around so much, it was difficult to say when they would meet, or if Thor could find them.

Right now, they were stationed in Brussels, and were getting to sit down for the first time in two days. Natasha unzipped her boots and kicked them off, flexing her toes and rolling her ankles. She took several deep breaths, eyes closed.

Clint perched on the window seat of their hotel room, peering out into the street. A car was on fire half a block down. In the street, someone had spray-painted, “All bow before Zeus!” in red paint. He sighed and looked over at Natasha.

“We haven’t heard from Thor, have we?”

“Not since last week.” Natasha drew her legs up onto the bed, leaned her chin in her hand, her elbow on her knee. They haven’t seen each other in five days. Clint had volunteered for a mission to break up a group of soldiers calling themselves “The Olympians” that were squatting in an abandoned building in Vienna. It took less time than expected. Clint only had to kill one of them. “Loki got in contact three days ago. Aite’s been spotted in the U.K., and he was going to try to draw her out there, to see what her plans were. I haven’t had any updates though.”

Clint pressed his lips together, eyebrows drawn down. “How do we know we can trust Loki?” he said quietly. “After everything that went down?”

Natasha shrugged elegantly. “Thor trusts him,” she offered. “He said he’s changed. That he has more to offer us now than we’ll find anywhere else.”

“What if he’s deceiving Thor as well?”

“I don’t think we have a choice but to trust him right now. He’s the only one who knows what Aite is thinking.”

An explosion rocked the building. Car alarms started wailing close by. Natasha was already pulling her boots back on. Clint slung his quiver onto his back, snapping his bow into place. “Well, it doesn’t matter right now anyway. We just need to keep them from killing each other.”

Natasha followed him out of the room at a brisk, clipping walk, snapping a round into her gun. “Yeah, let’s not give the gods the satisfaction of behaving exactly as they expect us to.”  



	2. Chapter 2

Jane Foster was not a doctor.

Well, she was a doctor, but not the kind of doctor that patched up the sick or wounded. But right now, she had to do what she could for people, because she was able-bodied and intelligent, and people were scared.

She was in Norway, where she had been studying the stars, and particularly the Aurora Borealis, for several years now under a grant from the government. She was pretty sure she was on the verge of figuring out how to harness the energy of the stars in the northern hemisphere in order to create a gateway between worlds.

That work took a backseat now, because there was a war happening, and she lived in a place of heavy fighting. She expected, initially, that Norway would be a place of peace, since they were situated so fully in the Scandinavian lands that followed the Norse pantheon. She thought that there would be little contention about who deserved their devotion and faith, and the people there would be safe.

But she had been kidding herself, because these people were angry. Those whose lives have been a struggle were angry at the gods for existing and for not aiding them when they needed the aid, for being too focused on themselves to help them even when they begged. Those whose lives were pleasant felt blessed, and were angry at those who so disrespected the gods.

Jane was lucky to be on a military base, heavily guarded not only by the Army but by SHIELD, who had been crawling amongst the populace of Oslo for months. She assumed that meant that the Avengers were involved, but the fires had knocked out electricity three weeks ago; she had no access to any information outside of what she could get by word of mouth among the citizens.

Thor had been to see her once, as he made the rounds to check the safety of all of the friends he’s made since he began to come to earth. She had promised him she would stay as safe and secure as she could, but the more she stayed cooped up in labs, where the equipment no longer worked, amongst soldiers who looked on her with contempt and an increasingly restless need to participate in what was happening outside, she realized that she could not be motionless either.

While she had no stake in the fight on either side, she knew she had to help people where she could, which is why every day, at dawn, before the fighting for the day began, she strapped a medical kit to her back and a gun (that she hoped never to use) to her hip, and trekked out into the city, looking for wounded or dying civilians, and did what she could for them.

Many people had begun to expect her, and she wasn’t the only person from the base who had taken up the task. Some of the citizens had begun to call them “American angels,” because so often, all they could do was make them as comfortable as they could before they died.

Today, she was hailed by a frantic woman with blood smeared through her blonde hair, and when she trotted after her, following her into the shopping district. There were almost no businesses left open. Most shopkeepers gave up a long time ago, taking what valuables and money they had with them; looters had taken care of the rest. Now, squatters, mostly families forced from their homes during the fires and bombings of the past few months, took advantage of the empty buildings in order to live.

The woman was speaking in quick Norwegian, her voice pitched three octaves higher than it probably usually was. Jane didn’t speak the language well, but she could pick out enough words to know that this woman had a child, and that child was in danger.

They were living in a jewelry store, which was just as well, since most of the jewels had already been looted. Jane had no idea where people thought they were going to sell them, in a country as ravaged as theirs, but if they found purpose in the stealing, amid all this madness, she was in no position to hold judgment over them.

The child was a boy, and he was in a bad state. Jane felt sick as soon as she saw him, a swooping nausea that left her dizzy. She pressed her hand to the one glass countertop that was not broken, and pressed her eyes closed, before she allowed the woman to urge her forward with the plea in her voice.

He was perhaps seven, and the gunshot wound was clear through his femur, right above his kneecap. Jane had managed to avoid treating these kinds of wounds. Mostly, she had been caught up with burns and gashes from the bombings and fires. Those were easy. She could do bandages and antiseptics and burn creams; she could even handle the clumsy knotting together of wounds that her inexperienced hands managed with stitching.

But this child, who was so small, and pale, and who looked up at her with wide blue eyes and nothing but pain and trust and faith – someone had put a bullet through his leg, and she had no idea how to save him. They called her an angel, and she had no idea what to do.

She took a deep breath through her nose and immediately wished she hadn’t when the stale, metallic scent of blood filled her mouth.

His mother had had the presence of mind to form a makeshift tourniquet from a pair of trousers. That probably saved his life; he would have bled out hours ago if not for that. There was nothing for it. She would have to take him back to the base and have one of the military doctors look after him. They would at least know how to treat a wound like this, even if supplies were low. His age would no doubt help convince them.

She hopped to her feet and hurried over to the doorway, pressing her foot against the hanging hinge and dragging the door from it. She pulled it over beside the boy, and his mother, picking up on what she intended to do, helped her very carefully slide him onto it. Jane bit her lip against his cries of pain.

“We need to take him to the base,” she said slowly, gesturing to the north like that might help his mother understood. “We’ll have to carry him.” It was two miles. On her own, Jane could walk it easily in half an hour. But carrying a small child on a fairly heavy door, and having to move at the pace set by his mother – it could take them almost two hours.

Still, that was just more reason for them to hurry. She used almost her entire supply of gauze to tie him to the makeshift gurney at his ankles and shoulders. He whimpered quietly, and his mother soothed him with soft words.

Then they were off.

It was as difficult as she anticipated, but after she got the right grip on the edge of the door, they did fine, even with people moving in the streets now. They were only about a quarter of a mile from the base when the shouting began. After the shouting, the screams and shrieks took up pretty quickly, and gunfire followed that.

They started running. It was hard, and her arms were burning, and the boy was howling with pain and fear. She did her best to avoid the hot areas, but it was difficult when she didn’t know where they were anyway. But it was alright, because soon she was running up along the gates of the base, and several soldiers ran out to meet them, and after a moment of swarming, they relieved her of her burden and she sank to her knees on the ground, panting. Behind her, a man shouted, and she had the presence of her exhausted mind to realize he had used the phrase “American pigs!” before the bullet pierced her between the shoulder blades.

***

At some point in the course of the past few centuries, Thor had acquired a taste for sunshine.

When on earth, he could be found in all the warmest places, basking in the warm glow as it made the golden skin of his shoulders to bronze. Two days before Jane Foster died, they were in the hills of Spain. He had walked with Loki through the plains for hours, and Loki’s nose and cheekbones were pink with sun. Thor found it lovely.

“It is strange that Spain has remained so quiet,” Loki murmured drowsily, now that they lay dozing in the grass beneath a willow tree. “They have such history with the Romans and the Greeks. I thought they would take up with their brethren.”

Thor stroked his fingers through his hair, staring up at the blue sky shattering the canopy above them. “Perhaps they realize the folly of this war,” Thor suggested. “Perhaps they have seen enough death in the name of faith.”

Loki looked up into his face, thumbed the deep grove formed by the downward curve of his mouth. “Why do you not fight, Thor?” he asked quietly. “Why are we here?”

“I missed you,” Thor said simply. He caught his hand, pressed his lips to his palm. “I know you are doing what you must, but it does not lessen my desire to be near you.”

“You grow soft.”

“I do.” He laughed. “But I do not mind. In the midst of war, I feel especially fondly for my loved ones.”

Loki pushed himself up to sit, peering out over the plains. There was no one to be seen over the vast miles before them. He thought that in his younger days, he may have sought war, would have meant to ravage a place so serene. “The All-Father calls me for counsel,” he said suddenly, gesturing to the ravens making wide, sweeping arcs through the sky above them. “He wishes me to urge you to do battle alongside him.”

“He wishes in vain,” Thor’s voice was dark. He was on his feet in a moment, snagging Mjolnir from its resting place beside him. He swung it absently, eying the birds. “This is a war of spite and pride, and I will have no part in it.”

“You play a large part indeed.” Loki picked at the grass, peeling stems in half. “You will end it, one way or the other.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have spoken to Hermes. There is a prophecy.”

“Why have you said nothing of this before?”

The trickster shrugged. “I have little tolerance for prophecies. It tells men and gods that they have no power over their own lives.” He rose to his feet. “But I believe this to be correct, because you choose your path, and you choose your cause. Thor, you will end this war, not because you wish to fight in it, but because you have conviction.”

“You have more faith in me than you should.” Thor closed his fingers around Loki’s wrist. “I will do what I can to live up to it.”

***

Zeus is a man of great stature, and for Thor to think so, he must be. Standing before the man, with his beard the color of ash and his chest broad with the heavy armor of the Greeks, Thor was reminded of his father, the way he had to peer upward, his neck craned back, in order to look into his face as a boy.

Thor had no such trouble meeting Zeus’s eye.

They were in Chicago, on North Beach. The city was all but abandoned; most of its citizens had run south, for family and friends in the suburbs or rural communities, leaving behind them only those intent on fighting. They lived in little pockets all over the city, scrounging for food and weapons and supplies where they could. Loki had vanished when they arrived in order to draw them all out of their hiding places to fight him and each other; his plan was to then talk them out of fighting each other at all.

If Loki was good at anything, it was talking.

But Thor was here for another purpose, and that purpose was standing before him.

Zeus grinned. “Look at this,” he boomed. “Two gods of thunder, facing each other in battle. I never would have guessed that it would end this way.”

“It does end here, father of the Olympians,” Thor spoke resolutely. “But not in the way that you think. I do not wish to fight you.”

“Oh? Are you so afraid?” Zeus sneered.

“It is not fear. It is my strong sense that this war is folly.” He brandished his hammer in the direction of the city. “These people depend on us. They look to us for guidance and protection, even when they call us by other names. We have promised them freedom from fear and now we destroy their world?” His arm dropped to hang heavily at his side. “A woman I have known has died in this war. She was murdered by someone who said he was fighting in my name. And now my friend is dead.” He shook his head, and threw his hammer down at Zeus’s feet. “Do what you will to me. I will not fight any longer.”

The Olympian was silent, staring down at Mjolnir where it lay before his feet. “You desire the end of a war over the death of one woman?” he asked incredulously. “So many have died, and your thoughts are only with one mortal. If you care so little for them, why not continue the war? Take what friends you have to Asgard, where we will not harm them, and let the rest of the world burn.”

Thor clenched his jaw. “I will not forsake any more lives. Jane was not a warrior, and she should not have been a casualty. Do what you will with me. I will fight no more.”

Zeus was quiet, assessing him with hard eyes, the way Thor’s father often did when he was a boy, leaving no small part of him undiscovered or unanalyzed. “You have conviction,” Zeus decided, the air crackling. “But one man cannot end a war when many men began it.”

Thor swallowed with some difficulty. “I will speak with my father. Perhaps we can come to an agreement. A way to settle the matter between you without further bloodshed.”

“You are naïve, boy,” Zeus chuckled. “No matter what your father has told you, he relishes war. He will seek it out when it has been too long absent. You are blind if you do not believe that.”

Thor was stung by the words, but knew them to be true. Odin was drawn so easily, so quickly, into this war, though it had no noble cause but the sustenance of his pride. A wise king never seeks out war, he had told him when he was a child. And here they were, in a war heavily sought out.

“No matter my father’s indiscretions and shortcomings, I will not fight you,” Thor repeated. “I have no desire to see further bloodshed among my people or yours.”

Zeus inclined his head slightly. The crackling of the air soothed itself, and Thor found he could breathe easier without the threat of rain cloaking them. “So be it, Odinson. I shall not strike a man who has left himself unarmed. But I cannot speak for others among my people.”

“I will accept that, with gratitude.”

Lightning struck, and Zeus was gone.

Thor stood there for a long moment, staring out at Lake Michigan. This side of the city was quiet, the fires burned down. He realized with an ache that the most peaceful places were those that had no humans on them.

He roused himself when Loki’s hand curled around his elbow. He turned to look at him. Loki, in turn, looked down at Mjolnir, where it sank into the sand at their feet. “You’ve done it then,” he said quietly. “You have condemned this war.”

“It is my father’s vanity that may be wounded, not my own.” Thor gripped his hand, brought it to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. “I do not wish to see any more friends die. I do not think that you do either.”

“I have no friends,” Loki pointed out with a wry grin. “But I have you, and I will defend you.” He was quiet, watching the water wash up against their boots. “I know you loved her. I am sorry she is dead, just for that reason.”

“She was as mighty as any warrior, if only in heart,” Thor commented, his voice fond, heavy with sorrow. “Father promised me that she would have a place in Valhalla. She is deserving of it.”

Loki only nodded, unsure what to say in the wake of such grief. “I should move on. There is much to be done still. Sif has been in touch. Aite is in Rome.”

Thor nodded, seized him around the waist and snatched a kiss from his mouth. “Look after yourself. I demand that you return to Asgard with me, alive. I wish to make no funeral pyres, and if you die, I will be very angry.”

“I will take that into consideration,” Loki teased. “But if I die, make certain that the pyre burns all night.”

“You have my word.”

***

In the end, neither of them burned a pyre for the other, but that doesn’t mean neither of them died.

In rural Indiana, corn and wheat turned into enormous snakes, devouring livestock and driving the people toward the cities. In eastern Europe, all nuclear power sources ceased operation at the same time. In Norway, frost struck hard, and no fires would light. Along the Mediterranean, all fresh waters turned to blood.

Aite was found on the coast of Wales, speared through her hands and feet to a tree. She screamed and screamed, her eyes fierce and angry, but with her mouth sewn shut, few could hear her. A bagpipe hovered nearby, the wind playing on it mournful songs.

The people began to believe that the gods were displeased with their efforts in the war, that they didn’t want them fighting. No matter what pantheon the warriors had chosen to follow, all the peoples fell down together and wept that they had served their gods so poorly that they would all starve and freeze and die of thirst.

It was Natasha who first learned that Thor was dead.

It was Bruce who realized that Loki was avenging him.

It was Steve who conceived the plan that put the world back together.

***

In another time, before the war, Thor might have loved Greece.

It was a sandy, green place, where the sky was often blue and the ocean was close. He couldn’t begin to imagine how beautiful it was before the fighting broke out, before the ancient temples crumbled under the pressure of fire and blood and death.

He didn’t expect the river Styx to be so rich with flowers and long, green grass and moist soil. It was almost ironic, that the doors to the underworld would be teeming with life. He took deep breaths, enjoying the scent of rich, fertile earth, and took the opportunity to remind himself that if he did not succeed now, this place, and much of the rest of the world, would be lost. It would be burnt to the ground, left charred and silent.

Loki had said he would end the war, that Hermes had heard a prophecy. Thor would accept that fate. He would seek it out.

“Do you wish so strongly for your death?”

Thor turned, and found Hades standing on the riverbank close by. His robes hung dark and loose, and his eyes were sunken into his face, somehow managing to appear as bored and distant as he did menacing. Thor remembered dining with him at the feast, remembered his sulking, skulking presence on the edge of the crowd. He drew himself up. “I come seeking audience with you.”

“Oh?” Hades drawled. “And what matter would you bring to me?”

“I wish you to appeal to your brother Zeus, and convince him to end this war.”

“Why would I do that?” Hades’ mouth curled into a smile. “I care not for petty wars sown from petty pride. But I receive sustenance from the dead on earth, those foolish enough to fight a gods’ war.”

Thor clenched his fist. “You are meant to look after the dead, not to take advantage of their deaths.”

“And who are you to explain my work to me?” Hades was suddenly close before him, his breath reeking of rotting meat. Thor resisted the urge to step back. “Who are you to tell me how to help the dead? I am your elder, boy. I was here at the beginning of earth.”

Thor bowed his head, deferent. “I mean you no disrespect,” he said quietly. “But this world is our responsibility. These mortals depend on us. We must not betray their trust.”

Hades was silent, his eyes sharp, almost the same tint as a raging fire. “I will consider your words,” he conceded finally. “My brother is much prone to making his own choices and is unlikely to take the counsel of others. His daughter Athena has urged him to end the war as well.”

“Perhaps your position will aid in convincing him,” Thor suggested. “I thank you for your time.” He bowed lightly, head and shoulders, and turned to walk away.

He took two steps and found himself bound, drawn back toward Hades, and then past him.

“I apologize, son of Odin,” the death god said, sounding almost regretful, following along behind him. Thor was being dragged backwards, thorny vines snagged around his wrists. No matter how he struggled, he could not break them.

“What are you doing? You gave me your word!” Thor lunged toward him, only to be caught and seized, thrown to the ground, dragged along on his back.

“I gave you my word that I would speak to my brother on your behalf, which I will do,” Hades grinned, strolling after him with his hands tucked behind his back. “I gave you no promise that I would not take you with me into the underworld. After all, you are still my enemy, and being the one to make a casualty of the All-Father’s son is not an honor to be taken lightly.”

Thor stopped struggling. Behind him, the great doors of the underworld appeared, creaking open among the water lilies, the clear clean stream moving beyond them. “What will you do to me?” he asked, his voice steady.

“I will throw you into the pit of the dead. We have no Valhalla to escape to after death, son of Odin. The dead of the Olympians suffer the same fate as those on earth. Do not fear. It is an eternity of emptiness. It will be painless.”

Thor doubted that highly.

***

There was famine all over the western world.

The death toll was higher in a month of starvation than it had been over the course of six months of intense war. England had begun to bury her dead in mass graves, because there was no more room for separate graves. In Kansas City, the dead were burned in huge pyres, like one would burn plague victims.

Steve found it all disgusting.

“I took part in what is generally agreed to be the most horrible war to ever happen,” he said one day to Tony as they patrolled Santa Barbara. They had been making the rounds throughout the country over the past few days, trying to get an idea of how heavily the people were affected. “But I have never seen anything so devastating as this.”

Tony felt itchy and naked without the Iron Man suit. He was sitting in an armored vehicle that he had designed and that used all of the same technology, and he still felt vulnerable. “They called your war a ‘world war,’” he commented lightly. “They had no idea what they were talking about.”

Steve snorted. “What do we do?” he asked quietly. “I’ve never been – I’m a soldier, Tony. I can’t fix a famine. And I have no idea how to make a god stop mourning the death of his brother and taking it out on the world.”

“Yeah, who knew that Loki would be that devastated over Thor? Didn’t he try to kill him a few years ago?”

“Yes, well, he tried to kill all of us.”

“I think our best bet is to seek out the help of our allies in the East.” Tony leaned back, resisting from toying with the knobs and buttons, wanting to make the vehicle even better. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Asia, with the exception of Afghanistan, has completely refrained from taking part in the war. So has Australia. Maybe we can look to them for help now. I’ve been in touch with an engineer I’ve worked with, who lives in Japan, and they haven’t been at all affected by the famine and water contamination.”

“Maybe Loki doesn’t blame them,” Steve suggested. “Maybe they’ve escaped his wrath. I’ll contact SHIELD and have them talk to the President. Diplomacy might be our best bet right now.”

“Let’s see if government has any power in a time of anarchy.”

It turned out it did. India, Japan and Australia were quick to send aid in the form of clean water and non-perishable food. Russia was surprisingly willing to offer asylum to those in northern Europe who could make their way there. South Africa was quick to send what crops they could spare.

In a rare moment of fellowship, the UN and the EU made a unanimous decision: they released the information that there was food, and that each country would receive a share of it, proportionate to its need based on population. And then the leaders of each country made this statement:

“We have food and water enough to sustain each member of this country for an entire year. But there is a condition. The nations who so kindly and charitably donated the sustenance that we have desperately needed will continue to do so until we are able to support ourselves again only if the killing and death ceases at once.”

There was less difficulty than they expected, once this announcement was made. Munich was the most problematic city, with riots rising, angry that their government would barter with their lives by withholding food. Between Captain America and Iron Man, they reigned in the chaos, and the problematic people were hurried off to jail and out of the city.

There were a few other minor incidents across Europe. Natasha and Clint neutralized a small rebel group in Vienna. Bruce responded to rumors of an organized rebellion in Florence (though as soon as he arrived, he was recognized, and the group disbanded before the Hulk could disband them).

It took months, and even then, the world had not achieved the serenity they hoped for, but they were getting there. And one day, farmers in the Midwest realized that their corn was growing again, and the snakes were dead.

If Loki hadn’t forgiven the humans, he had at least decided they had been punished enough.

***

When Loki fell in love with Thor, he felt like he had been hit full-on by a charging stampede of horses.

Thor had been trying for weeks to draw Loki out, even when Loki made it clear that he had no interest in seeing him. He had been in Asgard again for two years when Thor came charging into his chambers with a lightning-manic smile. “Loki! How are you?”

Loki had just woken and still lounged in his bed, dozing lazily as he looked out the window toward the broken bridge. He saw no purpose in hurrying to dress; he wasn’t permitted to leave his rooms anyway.

Thor’s energy was enough to startle him, and he called up his magic without thinking about it.

And he realized that he could call up his magic, feel it surge under his skin, his fingers crackling and sparking with the potential energy.

He stared up at Thor, more surprised than he usually allowed himself to appear, and Thor’s grin just widened.

“I convinced Father,” he explained, moving over to sit on the edge of his bed. He grasped his wrist. Loki could feel the magic curling like little tendrils around Thor’s fingertips, stroking him, warm and electric. “It was not easy, but I told him that you needed your magic, and that you could not be counted on to be loyal if we just kept taking from you.”

Loki didn’t speak for a long time. “Why did you do that?” he asked quietly, carefully. “You know what I have done with my power.”

“I do.” Thor nodded seriously. “While you have committed many terrible acts and hurt a great number of good people, you have also done much good.” He tugged on Loki’s ear, a sign of affection he had had for him since they were boys. Loki pulled a face but did not complain. “You have saved me from many disasters by making certain my back was never left unguarded. You have defended me even when I did not deserve to be defended.”

“You owe me no kindness, Thor. I have not been your friend for many years.”

“All the more reason for kindness,” Thor curled a hand around his neck, tugging at his hair. His smile was soft. “Because I have not deserved your friendship. Not with all of my neglect and vanity, not for my anger or my fear. I should have seen your pain, Loki. I should have been there to help you bear it. I should have eased it, and I did not. I am sorry, Loki. I am atoning, and I shall for as long as you ask it of me.”

Loki leaned in before he could say more and pressed their mouths together, his hand curled in the fabric of Thor’s shirt, holding him in close. He kissed him like he had been waiting all his life, and maybe he had. They kissed until they couldn’t breathe, until the short sharp hairs of Thor’s beard has rubbed Loki’s chin and cheeks raw, until they were naked and clinging desperately to each other.

Loki’s magic wove through the air, dark and mischievous and playful, and Thor groaned every time it slid and weaved against his skin. They moved together like they had a thousand times before – Thor on his back with his hands on Loki’s legs, Loki’s hands on his chest and thighs pressed to his hips – and when they were through, the air sparked and crackled, like a hot fire on a muggy night, and Thor held Loki, and forgiveness sang through Loki’s veins.

He pressed his face against Thor’s neck, his arm curled against his chest, thumb pressed to Thor’s pulse. “I am also sorry,” he murmured, his eyes hidden, and closed anyway, in their hiding place. “I was – My bitterness knew no bounds. I still feel no love for Odin. But do not think that hate extends to you.”

Thor just took his chin in his hand, lifted his face, and when Loki didn’t open his eyes, kissed him again.

***

With the exception of the Brooklyn Bridge, which would take at least another year to repair after the damage, New York was mostly in one piece again. Half of its citizens were still missing – many were presumed dead, many were confirmed dead, and many would never live in a city again – but it was still New York, and those who had returned were gathered in Times Square, because that was where Tony Stark and Captain America had come to speak.

“These have been difficult times,” Captain America said into the microphone, his voice booming out over a strangely silent crowd. “Never before in history has there been such sustained war and violence across continents, between countries, and between citizens of the same country. Never before has there been so much desolation and death due to famine and thirst. Almost twenty percent of the population of the western world is dead.”

The crowd continued to stare up at him, unmoving, unspeaking. They looked ragtag and scared, easily spooked, like deer caught out in the middle of a suburban lawn. Captain America went on.

“This war began because two pantheons, gods most of us believed to be ancient myths, went to war with each other. These gods have since resolved their differences. There have been meetings of diplomacy between Odin and Zeus, and the war will not continue. The subjects of Asgard and Olympus will also aid us in rebuilding our world, though they have not been asked. They aid us of their own good will.”

A murmur of approval started on one end of the crowd, swept over them in a wave.

“They have demanded, as we have, that the fighting cease,” he raised his voice. “They did not ask for your involvement in their war, and they do not hold you accountable, nor do they praise you for participating in it. Odin and Zeus both beg that you show each other kindness and tolerance, and that a war fought over religious differences should never happen again. Show each other respect, and the gods will respect you too. Thank you.”

***

After tricking Cerberus into chasing its tail with all three heads, and leaving it knotted up and dizzy at the gates, Loki strode into the underworld and had a chat with Hades.

Hades, who always liked a good joke, was amused.

“I will not return Thor to you,” he said, lounging on his throne, a cup of strong red wine in hand, “though your trick was indeed clever.”

“Then I shall take him,” Loki said easily.

“Shall you? He swims the pit of the dead. He has tried many times to reach the surface and has never succeeded.”

“I will go to him.”

“Oh?” Hades tilted his head curiously. He brandished his hand toward the wall, where a large door glowed its way into being. “By all means then, mischief maker. I shall enjoy this.”

Loki bowed, his eyebrow quirked challengingly, and then turned to briskly walk through the door. There, he stood at the edge of the pit, where the dead floated and sank, mere shadows of the people they once were, the lost souls that would never find their eternal paradise.

He saw Thor then, swimming up toward the surface from the deepest point of the pool, and he smiled. It had been so long since he last laid eyes on him, and though he swam through a sea of bones, he was still as golden as he ever was. Loki stepped forward, passed one foot into the pool and then the other. The souls parted for him, and he knelt and reached down into the cold, heavy press of death about him, and when he was close enough, grasped Thor’s arms, pulling him up.

“Loki!” Thor gasped, his hands tight around his elbows. Around them, the skeletons crept up, scraped their fingers against his skin, tried to find purchase where there was none.

“Hello, darling,” Loki said quietly, pushing his hair off his face. “We must be away, now.”

“The war – what has happened?”

“It is over. There was no victor, only those who lost,” Loki pressed his cheek to Thor’s, closed his eyes. He smelled of rotting meat and dead plants, but beneath it was the soft, sweet glow that he always had. “I will take you home.”

Thor grasped tightly to Loki’s coat, his mouth hot and wet against his shoulder. He breathed like he hadn’t in years. Loki wondered if that was the case. “How were they defeated?”

“They weren’t,” Loki kissed his temple. After a moment, he helped him crawl from the pool and settle on the edge of it. He curled his coat around his naked shoulders. “You were avenged.”

Fin.


End file.
